Patient and Kind
by cindergal
Summary: Glenn and Maggie's wedding causes Daryl to start thinking about his own relationship with Carol. Carol/Daryl


Daryl enters the store first, checking the immediate area for walkers, then signaling the all clear to Carol over his shoulder and pulling the door closed softly after she enters. "Can't believe we're risking our lives for a goddamn dress," he says, and not for the first time. "Stupidest thing I ever heard." When Carol had volunteered to come with him on a run for formula and ammo – the two things they always seem to be running out of – he'd been pleased. With all the new people at the prison lately and the extra work that comes with them, it seems like he hardly sees her anymore, and he misses their time together more than he cares to admit. But his pleasure had turned to frustration on the way here when she'd informed him they'd also be buying Maggie a wedding dress, of all things.

"It'll only take a few minutes," she says, walking of ahead of him, trailing her slender fingers along the racks of clothing as she goes.

"Takes less than that to die and you know it."

He can tell by the way her shoulders tense that she's exasperated with him, and he supposes he can't blame her with all the complaining he's been doing. She turns around, hands on hips, and gives him a look that's half annoyed, half amused.

"Daryl Dixon, I swear. It's ten minutes. Why are you putting up such a fuss?"

He shakes his head. "Forget it. Just, be quick about it, alright?" He doesn't tell her what he's really thinking, that he can barely stand the thought of losing anyone else at this point, most especially her. He's not willing to risk her life on a whim, that's for damn sure.

She tilts her head at him and gives him one of those looks, like she can see right through him. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet. "What?"

"I know this must seem really frivolous to you." She frowns. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

It's just…somehow Maggie and Glenn have managed to find love, real love, in this awful, awful world we live in." She gives him a watery smile. "And to celebrate that – it's not stupid. And it's not a waste of time. It's… a miracle."

It's suddenly stifling hot inside the store, and Daryl tugs at the collar of his shirt. He knows he needs to explain himself. He wants to take that sad look off her face. He doesn't know how to do either. In fact, he was beginning to realize how little he knew about a whole shitload of things, lately.

"I'm glad they're gettin' married," he says, trying again. "It ain't about that."

"I know. I know you're happy for them, Daryl." And from the expression on her face, he knows she's telling him the truth. She gets what he's trying to say. She gets him. She always has.

"But the governor's still out there, Carol, not to mention walkers. And who knows what else is comin'? I'm just tryin' to keep us all alive. This really ain't the time for a party, is all I'm sayin'."

She takes a step closer to him, her hand coming to rest on his arm. "But don't you see – it _never_ is. It probably never will be again. But what's the point in surviving if we don't get to really _live_ a little once in a while?"

Her crystal blue eyes pin him in place, and he feels like he can't breathe. All the words go out of his head, and all he can feel is the warmth of her fingers where they wrap around his wrist, and his heart beating wildly in his chest.

He huffs out a breath and she smirks at him, knowing she's won him over. "Alright already. Just hurry the hell up," he finally says. She squeezes his arm and grins up at him, bouncing on her feet a little before heading off towards the middle of the store.

"Still don't get what's so important about a dress, though," he says, bending down to look below the racks to make sure nothing's lurking underneath.

"Well, you're right – the most important thing is the marriage, not the wedding. Or the wedding dress. But this is a day most girls dreams of." She holds a dress up and gives it an appraising look. "I'm sure getting married in a prison surrounded by walkers was not Maggie's dream for this day. So even if it's not a full-fledged wedding gown, the least I can give her is a pretty white dress."

Daryl wonders if Carol had her dream wedding before that marriage of hers turned into a nightmare, but he doesn't dare to ask. Like she's reading his mind again, though, she offers the information up to him without him having to say a word. "I didn't have either – the wedding or the marriage. I got married by a justice of the peace wearing a beige business suit, and, well…we both know how my marriage turned out." She fingers the hem of one of the dresses she's holding, and all of a sudden he can see it there on her face, the sadness she's usually so good at hiding. It makes him wonder what she's thinking; of how lucky Maggie is to have someone like Glenn? Or maybe about how she always thought she'd be picking out dresses with Sophia some day. But the moment is fleeting, and before he knows it, Carol has moved on and is rifling through another rack of clothing.

"Didn't you already find somethin' for Maggie?" He gestures to a couple of white dresses she has draped over her arm.

"While I'm here, I'm going to get something nice for the rest of us, too. Even you," she adds.

He starts. "No, you ain't."

"Yes, I am. A new shirt, at least. Something with sleeves." She looks back over her shoulder at him, and raises her eyebrows suggestively. "Not that you don't look _real_ good without 'em."

He can feel the heat rising to his face. "Will you _stop_," he says, and she giggles at his embarrassment. Daryl isn't completely clueless. He realizes that there's something more between the two of them than just friendship. He's pretty sure that Carol wants more from him than that, and when she looks at him like she is now, he knows he's probably being a damn fool for not doing something about it. He takes a step towards her before Carol's eyes widen in panic.

"Behind you!" she says.

He spins around, bringing his bow up as he does, but the walker is too close and he doesn't have the time or the space to get off a shot. He stumbles a bit trying to back up, the racks of clothing restricting his movement, and before he can even put a hand on the knife at his belt, Carol is yelling at him to duck. He goes into a crouch and feels more than hears the bullet whiz over his head and hit its target. The walker crumples before him, a bullet hole dead center of its forehead. He looks back over his shoulder to see Carol holding her little pistol, the one Carl recently outfitted with a silencer for her.

"Nice shot," he says, standing up.

She puts a hand to her chest, obviously shaken up. "Daryl, I'm so sorry. You're right. We should go."

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm fine."

He can see the doubt in her eyes, and the worry. "But…"

"Hey," he says. "It's alright. Go on and get what you want. You got my back, an' I got yours."

She gives him a shaky smile, tucks the pistol away in the back of her jeans, and starts looking at the clothes again.

Daryl circles around the store, checking for any other stragglers they might have missed and keeping one eye on Carol the whole time. When he comes back around to her she's already got a stack of dresses along with shirts for the men, checking sizes against the list in her hand.

"Won't Beth look pretty in this?" she asks, holding up something yellow with flowers.

"You're askin' me?" he says, and she smiles, but some of the light has gone out of her eyes since they first walked in here, and what he wouldn't give to put it back.

"I'm almost done," she says.

Daryl nods and pulls a frilly pink number off the rack, all bows and ruffles and lace.

"Who's that for?" she asks, looking horrified.

"I'm thinkin'… Michonne," he says. Carol's hand flies to her mouth to stifle a laugh, but eventually she can't hold it in any longer. And once she gets started she can't seem to stop, laughing so hard that she has to lean against him so she doesn't fall over, tears streaming down her face.

"Weren't _that_ funny," he says, but he can't stop smiling as she puts her arms around his waist and gives him a quick squeeze.

"Yes," she says, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "Yes, it really was."

* * *

Once they get back to the prison, Carol grabs the bags of clothing out of the car and starts to head inside. But then she hesitates, turning back to him and smiling up into his face.

"Thank you for indulging me today." Her cheeks flush pink, and he finds himself staring down at the freckles splashed across the bridge of her nose. Before he realizes what's happening, her hand is on his chest, and she goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Just as quickly, she's scampering off inside, though he finds himself standing there, watching the space where she used to be long after the door closes behind her.

"Take a picture, I think the phrase is?" Rick sidles up beside him, hands on his hips, trying hard not to smile.

Daryl snorts. "Ain't got no camera. Also, shut up," he says, his ears burning.

Rick chuckles. "Good date?"

"Was a _run_, not a date."

Rick nods his head. "Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say."

Daryl rolls his eyes at Rick, but the fact that Daryl's not storming off mad or embarrassed must make him bold. Rick looks down at the ground for a moment, kicking the toe of his boot against the crumbling concrete.

"Somethin' goin' on between you two? Because it would be about time if there was."

Daryl sighs. "I don't know..."

"You want there to be?"

Daryl shrugs. "Difference between what I want and what I think's a good idea, you know?"

Rick nods his head and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Don't have to give you that whole 'life is short' speech, do I?"

Daryl snorts. "Nah. Got that one down." Rick nods again and just stands there, staring off into the distance at the walkers who stagger around, knocking futilely up against the fence. Giving Daryl time, the way he always does.

"My ma died when I was a kid," Daryl finally says. "After that, Merle was the only one who ever cared a thing about me. And he did his best, but he wasn't very good at it, to tell you the truth. Not until the end anyway. Y'all are the only family other than him I ever had. And Carol…she believed in me 'fore anyone else did. Before I ever even believed in myself."

"You love her," Rick says. A statement, not a question.

Daryl looks away. "'Course I do. That's why I can't screw this up."

He can feel Rick's eyes on him.

"It's a risk, going from friends to…something more. I get it."

"All that romantic stuff? Even if I was any good at it, which I ain't, it just seems to mess people up half the time."

He glances over at Rick and finds him staring down at his boots. "Yeah, I hear ya. Things can go bad, that's for sure."

"Rick…" Daryl never meant for their conversation to go in this direction, and the last thing he wants is to add to Rick's suffering.

Rick raises his head and looks Daryl in the eye. "But here's the thing. Even knowing what I know now, even after everything that happened with Lori? Even after all that pain, if I had it to do over again, I would still choose to be with her. Because she was worth it. Bein' with her, it was worth _everything_," he says, his voice breaking.

"You'd really do it all again?"

Rick clears his throat, and smiles. "I would. I'd just try to do it a lot better."

* * *

The ceremony is tomorrow, and for much of the last couple of days the prison has been a flurry of activity as the residents try to clean the place up and make it nice enough for a wedding. Good luck with that, Daryl thinks. It's still going to look like a prison, no matter what the hell they do to it. He stays as far away from it as he can, and figures his contribution will be dinner. He snags a big buck and a couple of quail, and waits for the whole thing to be over with and life, such as it is, to go back to normal.

"Hey stranger." He looks up from his bunk to find Carol standing in the doorway of his cell. "Haven't seen much of you the last couple of days." She smiles knowingly. "You been hiding out?"

He can't help but smile back. "Maybe." The truth is, he has been avoiding everyone, including her, a little bit. He hoped a couple days out in the woods would clear his head, but all he could think about out there was how pretty she looks when she smiles. And how much he likes making her smile.

"Well, you're almost in the clear, now. The wedding is tomorrow. You are going to be there, right?"

He nods. "Left my tux at the cleaners, though, so I guess I'll have to wear this," he says, indicating the sleeveless shirt he's been wearing for the last couple of days.

Carol laughs. "Oh no you don't, mister." She pulls a shirt out from behind her back and hands it to him. It's sort of a medium blue, long sleeved, and looks to be the right size. "Is that acceptable?" she asks him.

"Yeah," he says, looking it over. "If I gotta."

"You gotta," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Besides. It'll look real nice on you. The color matches your pretty blue eyes." Her own eyes sparkle and her grin is mischievous and he doesn't care that she's teasing him because she looks so damn happy.

"Thanks," he says, setting the shirt aside.

"So, are you going to save me a dance?" she asks him.

"A what?" he says. She laughs - at the panicked look on his face, he's sure.

"A dance. Traditional at weddings."

"I…don't dance," he says.

Carol laughs again. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

"Uh…what else is traditional at weddings? I guess I best be prepared."

"Hmm," she says. "Dancing, flowers, wedding cake - I guess those are the big ones. Carl found a boom box and some CDs in one of the offices, runs on batteries. And some of the Woodbury ladies are making a cake. No flower shops around that I know of, though." She smiles. "You _are_ going to be there, right?"

Despite his best efforts, he can feel his mouth turning up at the corners. "If I gotta," he says.

She shakes her head at him and smiles. "You gotta. See you tomorrow, Daryl."

* * *

Daryl stalks into the kitchen the next morning and unceremoniously drops a couple of large canvas bags on the table in front of Maggie. Thankfully, only Maggie, Beth and Carol are in there right now. Beth is mixing up fluffy, white frosting in a big bowl, and Carol is applying it to the cake, which doesn't look too bad, actually, if a little lopsided.

"Here," he says. "Happy…wedding, or whatever."

"What's this?" Maggie asks, taking a peek inside the bag. Then she gasps and puts a hand to her heart. "Oh, Daryl," she says, gazing at him with teary eyes.

"What? What is it?" Beth reaches inside the bag and takes out the bunches and bunches of wildflowers he's picked for Maggie. "Oh my gosh, these are so pretty! We were just sayin' that all that was missin' was the bouquet!" Beth beams at him, and he scratches the back of his neck.

"Well…there you go. No big deal. Whole fields of 'em just a little ways away." He passes by them all the time when he's hunting.

"Daryl…thank you," Maggie says, and throws her arms around his neck.

"Happy for y'all," he says softly into her ear.

She pulls back and puts her hands on his shoulders, her eyes shining with tears. "That means so much. It really does."

He clears his throat, pushing her away gently. "Um, these ones," he says, picking up some delicate purple blooms, "are edible. So you could maybe decorate your cake with 'em if you want."

Maggie and Beth do some more squealing and he backs away slowly, hoping to make his escape before anyone notices he's gone. Of course, he's not so lucky.

"Nice work," Carol says from behind him, just as he steps into the hallway.

When he turns around she's leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, with a smirk on her face.

He shrugs. "No big deal," he says.

"Not for you, maybe," she says softly. "But it was for Maggie." He stands there helplessly, having no idea what to say. She holds him there in her gaze, and he wonders what it is about her that makes him feel like he can do anything. "Mark my words," she says, pointing a finger at him. "I am going to get a dance out of you at this wedding."

"I don't dance," he calls out to her, and he can hear her laughter ringing out, clear and sweet like bells as she turns and walks back into the kitchen.

* * *

_Love is patient, love is kind  
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud  
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs  
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres_

__Daryl isn't the sentimental type, but even he gets a lump in his throat as Hershel speaks these words to Glenn and Maggie. Daryl's never known love to be any of those things, but looking at the two of them standing there, he almost believes it's possible. He almost dares to hope that it is. It's a fool thing to even think about, but he can't seem to help himself, just like he can't help that his gaze is drawn to Carol, who is standing slightly in front of him and to his right, looking at the happy couple with tears in her eyes. At the same moment she turns her head to look at him, and he averts his eyes quickly.

After the ceremony and the cake, the music starts. Carl starts the boom box playing, and Daryl finds an unoccupied table to sit at and nurse a warm beer - another treat they saved for today - content to watch his friends, his family, having fun. The tables are decorated with mason jars filled with the wildflowers he'd picked, and Maggie even has some in her hair. She looks real nice in her white dress. Everyone looks nice. He can't help but smile when he sees Michonne, who is not dressed in pink ruffles, but in a sleek sort of orangey number – coral, he thinks Carol called it. She looks…well, she looks pretty hot.

Even so, his eyes can't help but seek out Carol amongst the crowd. He watches as Tyreese pulls her to her feet and out onto the makeshift dance floor. He gives her a twirl, and the full skirt of her dress swirls around her slender legs as she spins. The dress is blue, with tiny white polka dots, fitted at the waist. It's perfect for her. She's perfect.

He feels a clenching in his gut that he knows is jealousy as he watches them, and he hates himself a little for it. It's not that he thinks there's something going on between Carol and Tyreese. He knows there isn't. But there could be, some day. Mostly he's jealous of the ease with which Tyreese carries himself. How comfortable he is with people. The way he's comfortable with himself. Carol laughs delightedly as he waltzes her around the dance floor. She looks so happy, and Daryl realizes he could never give her that. She deserves so much more than him.

When he can't take it anymore, Daryl grabs another beer and heads up to the second tier, doing his best not to call attention to himself. From behind the railing, he looks down on the group in the common area, his friends and even the Woodbury people he doesn't know that well, all dancing and drinking and laughing together, and decides Carol was right. This is what they've been fighting for, to have some kind of life, even if he's too miserable to enjoy it right now.

The music changes from dance music to something slower, and Daryl watches from above as Tyreese approaches Carol again. He has no desire to torture himself any longer, so he turns away and takes a long pull from his bottle of beer. A moment later he hears light footfalls on the stairs, and he looks up to find Carol standing a few feet in front of him.

"There you are," she says, giving him a sweet smile. "The crowd too much for you?"

"Not really my scene," he says. "But you should go back downstairs. Looked like you were having fun with Tyreese."

"Well," she says, taking a few steps closer. She's very close, now. Close enough to touch. "Tyreese _is_ a good dancer. And a really nice man."

"Then maybe you should go back to him, cuz I ain't that nice."

She laughs out loud. "Well, I would, except the guy I _really_ want to dance with is up here, not down there. And he's a lot nicer than he gives himself credit for."

He swallows, hard. "I still don't dance," he says.

"It's okay," she says, so softly he can just barely hear her over the music. "It's just us." She puts her hands on his chest, smoothing over the shirt that she picked out for him, and slides them up to his shoulders and around his neck. He remembers a time when he would have pulled away from her touch, but now he not only tolerates it, but moves into it. His skin warms wherever she touches him, and her soft sigh when he puts his arms around her waist gives him confidence. He pulls her a little bit closer, resting his cheek against hers. They sway to the music, his heart pounding in his chest.

"You know, this ain't really dancin'. It's more like huggin' to music," he says.

She pulls away just enough to look into his eyes. "Oh, no," she teases. "Now you've discovered my evil plan!" They smile at each other goofily before she rests her head on his shoulder and they start moving to the music again.

The song changes, another dance tune with a thumping bass that vibrates throughout his entire body, but the two of them just keep swaying to their own rhythm.

"You look real pretty tonight," he says. He feels like an idiot, but she deserves to hear it. And the way she smiles at him after he says it makes him happy that he did.

"So do you," she says, and they both laugh, the old easiness back between them.

He couldn't say later who kissed who. He's just grateful that it's finally happened. She tastes so sweet and she fits in his arms just right, and it feels to him like his whole life has been leading up to this moment. To his surprise, she's the one who pulls away first. She looks up at him, smiling and a little breathless.

"Daryl…?" There's such hope in her eyes, and he's as certain in that moment as he's ever been about anything that no matter how long they have together - whether it's one day or a lifetime - that she's worth it. And he'll do his best to let her know that every day.

After all, who is he to turn down a miracle?


End file.
